Page 27 of Love is Blind

I didn’t love her like a man should love the mother of his child, but I gave her pieces of me that no one else ever got, my name being one of them. A consolation prize for what I couldn’t give her. Now, she’s not even entitled to that.

“I don’t know why the fuck you are here, and God as my witness, I don’t care, but you need to leave because if you don’t, I cannot guarantee you won’t leave in a fucking bag.”

Unable to look at her any longer, I turn my head.

Confucius said, if you hate a person then you are defeated by them. But I’ve been defeated before, and defeat can humble a man. Make him accept his shortcomings and push him to do better.

I lift a hand and comb my fingers roughly through my hair.

Defeat doesn’t leave you thirsty for vengeance or eager to inflict pain.

Suddenly the hallway feels too confined, like the walls are closing in. Any minute the floorboards are going to split open and I’ll be dragged to the depths of Hell. It feels like the flames are already licking at me and tearing through my flesh.

I need air or possibly a fifth of vodka.

Anything to make the pain stop.

The pills I foolishly tossed last night would come in handy too.

Not really aware of what I’m doing, I leave Bianca and Shady standing in the hallway and make my way to the common room. My gaze cuts to the bar and I stare at the bottles lining the shelf. They all seem to blur together.

“All I’m asking for is five minutes of your time.”

Something inside me snaps and I turn back to her, my bare feet swallowing up the distance between us in a hurry. She backs away, surrendering her hands as I glare at her, curling my fists.

“Fuck you and your five minutes.”

“I deserve that,” she resolves, her eyes welling with tears.

Grinding my molars, I arch an eyebrow. The audacity of this woman is mind-boggling.

“That is the least of what you deserve, but I’m a firm believer that everyone gets what they have coming to them and your day will come.”

Not sure why it hasn’t already.

Letting my words sink in, she closes her eyes. Tears escape the corners and rain down her cheeks. My control slips and I uncurl my fists, pointing a finger dangerously close to her face.

“Don’t you dare fucking cry to me,” I sneer. “I buried my daughter because you’re a selfish cunt. You think your tears mean anything to me?”

She lifts her chin, a glint of rage in her stormy eyes.

“She was my daughter too!”

Of all the things she could say to me, that’s probably the worst of them. DNA don’t make you a parent. Just because Bianca carried Abigail for nine months that doesn’t give her the right to claim her as her daughter when she’s the one who took her fucking life.

Sensing I’m about to lose my shit, Shady steps between us and turns to Bianca.

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to leave now.”

“Nah, brother, we were just getting to the good part.” I divert my gaze back to Bianca and narrow my eyes. “You’re right, she was your daughter and you let her drown in a bathtub so you could shoot heroin.”

Guilt lights her eyes.Good.

“You don’t think I struggle with that every day?”

I don’t really give a fuck what she struggles with, but I doubt it’s enough. As far as I’m concerned, she got off easy. She blacked out and her daughter was gone.

“I don’t want to hear about your struggles. You didn’t pull Abigail’s lifeless body from the water. You didn’t hold her in your arms and pray to a God you didn’t believe in, asking him to grant you a miracle and you didn’t fucking stand in front of an open grave and watch them lower that white box into the ground. Those memories don’t haunt you every day.”

---